Without You
by BitchofLiving
Summary: Angel is gone, and everyone is lucky to still have Mimi. But can they survive when Muffy leaves Benny after finding out he cheated on her with Mimi, and their ex-friend needs their help? RoMi, MoJo, tentative Benny/Mimi, some Mark/O.C.


**Chapter One**

Mimi slung her arm around Roger's waist. "It's not your fault the power busted. You're really not _that _bad." She smiled weakly, hoping her lame joke would cheer him up. – No such luck. "Come on, Roger, if you're going to be a stubborn ass, be one when I'm not around, okay? You're supposed to vent all this at Benny, remember?"

_Except now there is nothing to vent at him about_, Mimi continued in her head, imagining Roger's reply. Benny, their landlord, had yet again convinced them that he'd be letting them off, rent-free. He'd been awfully kind since Mimi's near-death experience two months ago; Roger ought to have been grateful, but he knew it was because Benny still had feelings for Mimi. Roger was staring grimly ahead as they walked out of the nightclub in the throng, his guitar in one hand, the other limply at his side, as if not acknowledging Mimi's presence. Just as he'd begun his first song, the room had blacked out, and the club owner had sent everyone away, claiming it was a power failure and it wouldn't be back up until morning.

Mimi and Roger walked toward Avenue A in silence, Mimi internally fuming – she couldn't wait to dump him off on Mark, their roommate. She should be more caring – after all, she was his girlfriend – but she needed a break from his gloominess, which had come around a lot more frequently.

"Roger, wait," Mimi said as they got to the building. "Listen – I know you're upset about the gig –"

"_The _gig?" Roger said, exasperated, turning to face her. "Mimi, try _all the gigs_. None of them have gone right."

"What are you talking about? The one the other night, at the Neon Blue –"

"You're only saying that because you don't want me to feel bad." Roger sounded genuinely upset. "They were complete, utter crap, Mimi, and you know it. Stop sugar-coating it for once, and tell me the truth."

"I'm not sugar-coating anything, Roger," Mimi frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm telling you the truth – you just … need a new scene. Those places aren't for those types of songs, the songs you write. Those are for the people who want a revolution."

"And you don't?"

They had begun into the building. Mimi looked at him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Never mind," he said quickly. "Maureen's just … rubbing off on me a little too much." They had reached their flat.

"Just wait until you start mooing – I think I might have heard Mark at it the other day," Mimi smiled, slipping her hand into Roger's, and her smile widened when he laughed.

"I think that was his attempt at something else, if you know what I mean." Mimi laughed, too, as Roger dragged open the door to the flat. He looked around when Mimi's laughter abruptly cut off.

"Who are you?" He asked after a moment. There were two people sitting awkwardly and uncomfortably on the well-worn leather couch. One was a man, who had gray hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses; the woman next to him looked just as unfriendly as one person could be, and she had dark brown hair. They looked vaguely familiar, especially the woman, but he couldn't place their faces.

"Roger – Mimi!" Maureen Johnson skid into the room, looking frantic. "Hi, guys, look –" She dragged them into the smaller bathroom that led off from the main room. "I'm sorry, I didn't know where to bring them, and I –"

"What are you talking about?" Roger cut her off.

Maureen sighed. "My parents. That's them, in there. Listen, they were flying back from Canada, and they haven't seen me in a while. So they drove down here, and wanted to stay the night, but – Joanne and I got into a fight. She's over there, working, and I don't want to bring them over to my place, so I had to set them up in a hotel, but they insisted on getting to know my friends. I'm sorry, I should have called first – well, I did, but no one was here –"

"Where's Mark?"

Maureen shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe filming somewhere. Please, I'm sorry, they just wanted to get to know you guys."

Mimi brightened immediately. "We're happy to meet your family, Maureen. And it's no problem, really, unless you get Roger talking about Mark's inability to –"

"–Maureen? Is everything alright, dear?" Maureen's mother was calling from the main room.

The three of them went back into the main room. Maureen sat down beside her mother, and Mimi and Roger sat across on the loveseat that was being held off the ground by an old guitar case of Roger's.

"Mom, Dad," Maureen began. "These are my friends – Mimi Marquez, and Roger Davis. This is their flat, with Mark. Roger, Mimi – Mom and Dad."

There was a polite exchange of greetings before things fell awkwardly silent for a minute. Then Maureen said, "Roger is a musician; they just got back from a gig, actually."  
"Yes, we could see that, when he walked through the door with a guitar, Maureen," Mrs. Johnson said – coldly, Mimi thought. She didn't have a very nice face. She was pretty – like her daughter – but she had a … _mean _face. It was cold and harsh, like her tone.

"Mimi," Mrs. Johnson said suddenly, "what do _you _do?"

"I, uh, I'm currently … " Mimi didn't quite know how to respond. After Angel's death, she'd quit the Cat Scratch (for good, this time), and she hadn't gone back after Roger came back. She didn't have a job. "Unemployed."

Mimi took it from Mrs. Johnson's expression that she didn't approve. Mimi realised _she _didn't particularly care if Mrs. Johnson approved or not.

_Better than being a stripper_, she thought sourly. But aloud, she said, "Why were you visiting Canada?"

"We have a friend up there who got into a spot of trouble," Mr. Johnson said evenly, but his tone ended that topic of conversation. He then looked at his watch – an expensive Rolex, Mimi noted – and looked at his wife and daughter. "Well, we had better be off, then, Louisa. Maureen – we'll see you again tomorrow?"

They all stood as Maureen agreed and said her farewells. "You know your way to the hotel?"

"We'll manage," her father said; Mimi got the impression he was much warmer than his wife, though that wasn't really a difficult feat. "Good to meet you," he said to Mimi and Roger.

"Bye," Roger said, holding up a hand briefly. Mimi smiled widely at Mr. Johnson before cutting her eyes to his wife, a smirk now in place.

When they were gone, Maureen fell back with a moan onto the couch. "Holy … Mother … of _God_, that was awful."

Mimi and Roger exchanged a glance. "No, no," Mimi said soothingly, still holding Roger's gaze. "Um, it went very well." But Maureen threw her a look of utter disgust.

"Are you kidding me?"

Mimi sighed. "Alright, you're right, it was crap. But what did you expect? You're from Hicksville."

"Hicksville? _Hicksville_? Jesus, Mimi, Hicksville isn't good for anything – the only thing it ever did was grow pickles or potatoes."

"Still," Mimi said. "I was a squatter. Then I was a stripper with a drug addiction. Roger's always been a starving artist. We both have _AIDs_, Maureen. You think we're likable by rich people?"  
"Joanne likes you well enough," Maureen protested. "This was just a disaster – I'd hoped Mark were here! Mark, who they know, who they maybe even _liked _at one point! And Collins! They would have – oh, never mind, they would have hated Collins." She snorted. "An anarchist is totally not the ideal guy they'd like me to be friends with. Jesus, _why _tonight? _Why _did Joanne and I have to fight _tonight_ – why did my parents have to come in _tonight_?" When neither Mimi nor Roger offered up a suggestion, she barreled on. "Because life is crap. Because karma is really, really crap. It's all coming back because I snuck onto the damn subway last week, isn't it?"

"Maureen, you're delusional," Roger told her firmly. "You're tired, you're under a lot of stress –"

"You're a doctor, too, all of a sudden?" Maureen rolled her eyes. "I'm _fine_, Roger, honestly." She glanced at them. "Okay, yeah, you're right. Listen, I have to go home, okay? I'll see you later."

She gave Mimi a hug, ruffled Roger's hair, and left the flat, the heels to her knee-length boots clacking on the floor.


End file.
